


That Which Seems To Be

by zarabithia



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-11
Updated: 2010-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time travel, angry alien probes, pregnant whales and smug friends are both distracting and occasionally helpful when one is having a post-death sexuality crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Seems To Be

Following the rejoining ceremony, Spock is at peace.

There are no warring emotions, and the human heritage he's struggled with for so long lies dormant. His friends, elders, mother, and father all gather around him as he retrains his mind, and it takes Spock some time to remember what the looks on their faces mean. His mind, fresh and disconnected from his memories and the emotions connected to them, has difficultly assigning meaning to them.

He eventually recognizes it as concern.

He does not tell them their thoughts on his well-being are misplaced. He does not tell them of the satisfaction he obtains from the calm, or that the memories he is only just beginning to regain tell him of times he did have such a high state of inner peace.

Instead, he focuses on his retraining, and waits for the inevitable end to his period of reprieve.

He does not have long to wait; they depart his childhood home in the ship of an enemy. Montgomery Scott's words about the situation are particularly harsh.

"A Klingon bucket of rust," Captain Scott mumbles while they work on the engines together, and although Spock is not entirely certain whether Captain Scott is talking to himself, the engines, Spock, or their dead Klingon opponents, Spock chooses to answer him.

"We are hardly flying in a 'bucket,' Mister Scott. In fact, the ship could be used as a valuable tool to learn about our enemies - not to mention the scientific advantages it places in the Federation's hands."

"Aye, Laddie. This contraption we're flyin' around in might be good for us, but I still miss the way things used to be." Captain Scott looks annoyed for a fraction - .6, to be precise - of a second, before his expression softens. Spock's friends do that often, and Spock wonders if his memories are simply faulty, because his memories do not hold previous occurrences of such acts.

Spock considers, perhaps, that his death has played a role in changing events.

~~~

Spock does not expect a mind meld with a humpback whale to reveal to him just how strong of a catalyst for change his death has served as.

The semantics are different, but Spock has melded with creatures far less similar in communication than these whales are to him, and the meanings come through, far more smoothly than those of his friends.

*Different.* Images of wide open seas flash through the meld. Spock can taste the crisp cleanliness of the ocean through the meld; just as he can feel the weight and heaviness of the artificial environment the whales currently call home. *Solitary.*

Longing. _Istaya_ in his language, and only the lack of time prevents him from remembering the other words from other species, whose minds he has touched. Some of his non-technical memories are hazy, but those words are suddenly as vivid as the taste of the ocean in Gracie's mind.

*Freedom* Gracie specifies, and in her mind, Spock sees a calf and an adult whale alone together. Her calf, yet to be born, perhaps, or the calf she used to be - Spock isn't certain.

In George's mind, he sees an adult male, alone. *Solitary,* George stresses.

Historical research does suggest that humpback whales create pods only when convenient for hunting, and are not monogamous creatures. *You would rather return?*

*Net. Glass. Net.* Spock does not understand George's assertion, but he feels George's rage at man as a species. The wrongs committed have yet to destroy George's whole species, but George knows well the suffering the wrongs _have_ caused.

*Trapped,* Gracie confirms, echoing George's answer.

*Doctor Taylor will likely not understand your actions.*

Their minds are full of warmth when he mentions Doctor Taylor, but it is not unconditional warmth. *Doesn't understand different.*

*Not _family._ Not human.* Gracie's tail flaps in an estimation of humor, and she adds. *Not Vulcan.*

*Different bonds* Spock clarifies. *Though not all of us form such bonds. Some, such as myself, choose not to engage in romantic relationships at all.*

Something resembling uncertainly flutters through the whales' minds, and Spock is surprised to have the image of Admiral Kirk reflected back at him. It takes him a moment to realize that the whales see Admiral Kirk as his mate.

*No. You misunderstand.*

The history of humans has always rushed to judge intelligence in comparison to humans. Spock cannot judge George and Gracie by that value. But the sympathy that comes from them is equal, if not greater, to any Spock has ever felt in any human.

He doesn't understand the reason for it.

~~

Their trip is a busy one, and Spock does not have time to dwell on what he believes is kind, if misplaced, sympathy by the whales.

Instead, he dwells on colorful period language and Admiral Kirk's apparent desire to copulate with Doctor Taylor. He lends his assistance to Mister Scott when it is required, and spends the rest of the time attempting to translate his calculations into something that the Klingon ship can recognize.

Each task he focuses on brings his memories into a sharper focus. The banter with Doctor McCoy is familiar, as is the impatience and trust extended to Spock by Admiral Kirk - Jim, as he prefers to be called.

Jim's hovering, in particular, brings a certain feeling of unrest that Spock cannot immediately place. 

Chekov's unfortunate timing and a barbaric whaling crew provide ample distraction. However, by the time they arrive in their own time period once again and Admiral Kirk is pulling Spock into the warm waters of the San Francisco Bay, the distractions are nearing an end.

The warmth spreads over his face before Spock can fully control it, and try as he might to blame it on a successful mission in saving his mother's planet, Spock knows that is a lie.

As Admiral Kirk smiles back at him, Spock is suddenly acutely aware of the reason for George and Gracie's belief.

He is also grateful for their sympathy.

~~

The trial is brief, as is his father's goodbye. Spock sends word to his mother that he is fine; her worry has been that he is not adequately reconnecting with his emotional centers in the same fashion as he is with the factual ones.

Spock is quite connected - on that front, his mother need not be concerned. That the return of his emotions have brought with them a type of affection he does not remember having towards Jim Kirk is not something his mother needs to know.

But the time after the trial brings at last time to himself. He spends that time reviewing old personal logs, searching for any hint of an attraction he does not remember having.

The logs tell of Spock's early discontent with the Captain's unorthodox command style giving way to his eventual acceptance and fascination. Through five years' worth of chess games, Spock hears his own voice retell his journey from confusion to affection.

But the affection never evolves beyond platonic.

The logs reveal to him what Spock has already known: there is nothing wrong with Spock's memories. He does not remember this attraction because it is not something he has felt before.

There is only one logical conclusion to draw from the evidence. But Spock is a scientist and every hypothesis needs to be tested.

~~

The terrain of Georgia is especially aesthetically pleasing, and Spock can easily see why Doctor McCoy has chosen to spend the remainder of the leave Starfleet has granted its personnel in the comfort of his Georgia residence. Spock also appreciates that their conversation can take place outside, and while it is still considerably cooler than Spock's homeworld, the weather does not chill him to the same degree that a similar conversation closer to Starfleet Headquarters would.

Spock is not surprised to see that Doctor McCoy is enjoying his leave, nor is Spock surprised that Doctor McCoy looks annoyed to have his leave interrupted by Spock's request.

Spock is also not particularly surprised that Doctor McCoy does not bother setting his drink down before he answers Spock. "You already hitched a ride in my head for that whole katra business. What could possibly be so goddamn important that you need to spend _more_ time poking around in my brain?"

The Vulcan value of privacy sometimes makes conversations difficult, and Spock acknowledges that this is one of those times. Yet it is simultaneously a time that Spock covets his people's values, because he cannot imagine explaining the true nature of this conversation, even to a man he has trusted to carry his katra. "I have reason to believe that the rejoining procedure did not go smoothly."

"What kind of reasons?" Doctor McCoy does not give him long to answer, as is typical, before he continues. "Because it's working just fine for me. No more haphazard sleep patterns, aversions to a good slab of animal meat pretty much gone, and no more cravings for plomeek soup."

"The rejoining ceremony purged you of my preferences?" That is rather a noticeable difference from Spock's experience.

"Sure did, and just in time, I might add. No offense, but I might have craved plomeek soup while you were in my here-" McCoy taps the side of his head lightly with the index finger of the hand not holding his glass. "But everytime I tried to actually taste it, I hated it."

Spock wonders if that would be a further difference between their "cravings." It's not a question he gives voice to. "None of my longings or preferences remain?"

"Nope. I am back to being one hundred percent me, just the way I like it." McCoy shakes the ice in his cup in the particularly annoying fashion that humans are prone to, and asks the question Spock should have anticipated, and would have, under less distracting circumstances. "Which of my 'preferences' are giving you trouble? A sudden craving for mint juleps? The fear and loathing of space and all its variable ways to kill you?"

"No."

"It isn't something non-vegetarian is it? Because that would explain why you're so cranky."

"My current condition has nothing to do with the barbaric practice of consuming animal products. Further, I am not cranky, Doctor."

"Ah, yes. That's one of those pesky human emotions your people don't indulge in, isn't it?"

"Quite right."

McCoy laughs and does not have the bad manners to remind Spock of the times when that has not been true. For all that Spock has quarreled with the man over their years together, there are times when McCoy understands when not to press beyond acceptable boundaries. There are, of course, times when he does not, but Spock is capable of overlooking McCoy's flaws as well as he overlooks Spock's inadequacies.

There's a prolonged jingle of the ice, before McCoy ventures, "You know, Spock, when you were in my head, it wasn't just plomeek soup that was a new craving."

"You have already indicated such, Doctor."

McCoy sighs, then and sets the drink down on the table beside his chair. "Not what I meant. I'm pretty sure sleep patterns and dietary changes wouldn't bring you to see me - even when they _should_. Now, I never acted on it, because messed up as you made me, it didn't take a genius to figure out that those weren't my feelings. I'm going to take a not so wild guess that those 'preferences' are what you're trying to say I 'gave' you?"

"I ascribe neither malice nor intent to the action, Doctor."

"But you're in a hurry to be rid of it, aren't you?"

"I am in a _hurry_ to understand why my current situation does not line up with my preferences prior to my death."

Spock never particularly enjoys the moments when McCoy takes his time in answering. The result makes him feel scrutinized in a way that reminds him of being the only half-human on Vulcan. But he waits, as patiently as he is capable of.

"Can't help you there, having never died. But who's to say it wasn't always there and you're just now realizing it? Sexuality is a complex thing. Some people go their whole lives with one 'preference.' Others go most of their lives with one before trying out a new model. Then you have Andorians, who make the conversation much more complicated - "

"Doctor." Spock bristles slightly at the bluntness of the discussion. Sexuality, in all its many variable forms, is a private matter for his people. Describing his situation in vague terms is acceptable on some level, but this is not. "I am well-versed in the complexity of sexualities on many planets. While I thank you for trying to help, I believe we are finished with this conversation."

"Before we finish, indulge an old country doctor in one more question. Leila, Zarabeth, T'Pring, the Romulan Commander - what do they have in common?"

"They are all women." Which, of course, makes his current attraction all the more curious. No precedent exists for his desire towards his _male_ captain.

"Women you've felt attraction towards."

"Your desire to state the obvious has grown no more endearing than I recall it being prior to my death, Doctor."

"They're also people you could never form long-lasting relationships with, Spock. You could acknowledge the attraction you felt for them because they were never going to be permanent fixtures in your life and you could pretend that meditation was enough to make you a good little emotionless Vulcan again." McCoy clasps his hands over his stomach, looking more smug than Spock can ever recall him looking before. "The man you're attracted to, you can't do that. You can't keep him at a distance to maintain your emotionless standard, because we both know you and Jim would follow each other to hell and back, and god forbid, drag the rest of us along with you. You kept him locked away as a friend, because it was safe."

"Fascinating argument, Doctor. Flawed, but I find your leaps of logic as intriguing as ever."

The look of satisfaction vanishes off of Doctor McCoy's face, and for that, Spock is grateful. "It's a hell of a lot better argument than you assuming you came back from the dead wrong, you stubborn, green-blooded hobgoblin! Or that the Vulcan elders didn't know what they were doing. And by the way, it was the word 'longing' that gave you away."

The worst part in debating with humans is their capacity to stumble upon logic, even in the midst of otherwise emotional ravings.

~~

The leave is short, something Spock suspects makes most of his crewmates quite happy. In the dwindling time that remains, Spock spends his daylight hours reviewing crew rosters and going through the standard preliminary reports that make up a First Officer's duty. His evening hours are spent spent in meditation, reading and contemplation.

He has always found the histories of the Federation to be utterly fascinating, because without the blending of the worlds, he would not exist. He begins with those, believing that the answers he seeks will more readily be found in more contemporary texts, rather than the writings of Surak, which he already knows by memory.

Though the Federation histories are also familiar, he reads them now with renewed interest. He's met Ambassador T'Pol only once, but he can sense the amusement in her descriptions, of an Earth Starfleet so wrapped up in correcting their own history of oppression that they could not understand the confusion Earth's freedom of sexuality clauses and regulations were causing amongst the remaining founders of the Federation.

_"I thought of our warriors, our priestesses and our own clauses for breaking apart arranged marriages,"_ Ambassador T'Pol's writings reveal. "_I considered other reasons, beyond mere want, for relationships that do not fit the human definition of heterosexual to exist on our world. I do not understand the human history of sexuality, nor do I understand their desire to inflict these clauses upon a governing structure that does not share that history, but Admiral Archer reminds us of the Vissians, and I am inclined to believe that Earth regulations may play some positive role in the future." _

Indeed. The galaxy is a large one, and the regulations that so confused the majority of the Federation founders now serve as one of the requirements to gain membership as a Federation planet, something a surprising number of them fail. As difficult as his current predicament is now, it would be more so, had the human founders not insisted upon such clauses.

Regardless, he finds comfort in the ambassador's words and in knowing that humans have always been capable of causing frustration, even when they are trying to be helpful. In the aftermath of his conversation with Doctor McCoy, it is a reassuring thought.

He continues to read Ambassador T'Pol's memoirs, welcoming the solace they bring, even as the topic turns away from sexuality.

_"As I stood next to Admiral Archer during the signing, I could see that not everyone was certain of the rightness of this joining of worlds. Fear and uncertainty were on many of their faces and on more than one tongue, and I was reminded of Surak's words. _'Dakh'uh pthak. Nam-tor ri ret na'fan-kitok fa tu dakh pthak.'_: Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear."_

Spock hesitates at the passage. He knows those words of Surak quite well, as they are among the first a Vulcan child learns. His father has always taught the importance of first acknowledging a fear before one can cast it out.

"A vital step in achieving the _C'Thia_," Sarek has told him, and although Spock has disagreed with his father many times during his life, he has never seen fit to argue that particular point of Surak's teachings.

Spock does not believe that now is a good time to change that philosophy.

Abandoning Ambassador T'Pol's memoirs, he moves to Surak's works, as it becomes apparent that he requires a refresher in Surak's teachings after all.

_"Learn clear thought. Learn to discern that which seems to be, and that what you wish it to be, from what truly is. Learn the truth of reality, the reality of truth. C'Thia. What is - is. This will set you free."_

Spock reads the words and translates them to his native tongue in his mind, allowing himself time to ponder the significance of their meanings. It has seemed as though his newfound desires are due to a faulty rejoining ceremony, and Spock has spent a good deal of time wishing he could figure out an alternative explanation when that explanation proved to be false.

But if the truth is ultimately what matters, then maybe the reason for his discovery doesn't matter at all. Maybe all that matters is that the attraction exists.

If he is going to strive towards truthfulness, perhaps he needs to acknowledge the fear that he has towards his attraction and not waste time on whether Doctor McCoy's reasonings for that fear are correct.

As the sun comes up, Spock continues to work on casting that fear out, and he is more at peace than he has been since he left Vulcan on the Klingon ship.

~~

Two weeks later, the Enterprise is full with a crew getting the ship ready to leave orbit. As science officer, Spock divides his time between the bridge, engineering, and the individual science bays. He ends the day in the transporter bay, listening to Mister Scott exchange profanities with a particular piece of transporter equipment.

"Couldn't have left the bloody coils alone. The old ones worked just fine," Scott tells him as the last of the coils are slipped into place. "But no, they have to change the blasted materials, just because they can."

"The new ones are supposed to be stronger," Spock answers.

"More of a hassle, at any rate. Time will tell if it's worth it."

"Perhaps so. Do you require my assistance for anything else, Mister Scott?"

"No, I think that's gonna do it for the day. Care to join me in the mess hall? The lovely Miss Uhura is planning on singing for us."

"As inviting as that sounds, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I have a meeting with the captain. We have some things to discuss."

"Ah. Have a good night then."

"That is certainly my intention, Mister Scott."


End file.
